


First Of All

by insertfruitpun



Category: The Witchlands Series - Susan Dennard
Genre: F/M, I Had To, Leopold fon Airport, do not ask me for the logistics of it, love how these dudes have last names but its replaced by brackets, online arguments, the world isn't that much of a fuck up in this one, they're all happy and have phones, very minor rylen, vivia is in it very briefly too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27682873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insertfruitpun/pseuds/insertfruitpun
Summary: Safi and Merik argue online but then have to interact in real life
Relationships: Iseult det Midenzi & Safiya fon Hasstrel, Safiya fon Hasstrel/Merik Nihar
Comments: 39
Kudos: 9





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is very self indulgent but I like how this first chapter came out.

Safi didn’t know what possessed her to actually go into a room with Habim alone when he was visibly nervous. She was just proving a point to Iseult about being responsible, and independent, and it was completely wrong, because she needed Iseult now more than ever. She didn’t go to many social gatherings, which meant Habim would have to focus on explaining to her why it was so important to go. 

So, he would just find a fancy way to say “Safi needs a babysitter” which, honestly, wasn’t untrue, but it was still more than a little insulting. When Safi was alone, though, Habim had time to outline every time she ever fucked up in public. This wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation, and Mathew even cut it in half. Safi was aware that her public image wasn’t the best, but she didn’t know why it mattered. 

“A lot of important people will be there,” Habim said once Mathew was there. It was possibly the most civil thing he’d said since the start of the conversation. Still, Safi honestly did not know why it mattered. “So it’s important that you don’t make a fool out of yourself.”

But Mathew being there didn’t just mean Habim was less nervous by default, it also meant that Safi couldn’t get out of doing it. With Habim, she could just irritate him until he gave up on even trying to convince her to be civil and polite during whatever it was that was going on. And then he’d tell her to just not show up at all if she couldn’t simply stand to play by the rules for once. And really, Safi could do it. Just not for a longer period of time. Iseult always said she’d say what she thought even if it killed her, and Habim always scoffed and said it might very well get her killed in the future. Safi didn’t know whether that was threat or not. 

It was just her nature, and some would say it was rather endearing that she always said what she thought. The fact that it was often offensive to some people was irrelevant – they deserved it most of the time. And Mathew either understood that or made peace with it long ago, because his approach was way more effective.

“Leopold will be there and your uncle will not.” Safi could have guessed it, really. It was only polite to invite everyone important to these types of…important events (either Habim didn’t say what it was or she had just forgotten) but no one ever invited both her and her uncle. They were just too much for people to handle together. Hell, Safi herself, being the way she was, could barely handle her uncle. That was on him, though. He wasn’t really the greatest authority figure, which meant Safi had no fear of or respect for him, which meant they fought a lot. Safiya fon Hasstrel was an acquired taste, but Eron fon Hasstrel was something you’d have to be paid rather absurdly to taste. Like one of those thousand years old cheeses. Or juices that were in a car for three years all the while the car was boiling under the summer sun.

And Safi was simply spicy, well seasoned food. It wasn’t her fault that most people were just bland, boring, salt-and-pepper (sometimes not even that) combinations. It did take a bit of getting used to if you were only ever faced with were boring people.

But Safi failed to be ashamed of how she was. She knew what was too much (her uncle, to set an example), but she also knew that saying what she thought wasn’t as big a deal as people (Habim) made it seem. 

And she could hide it, in theory – Leopold seemed to be pretty good at that – but she saw no reason to even try. She supposed Leopold had to have more of a reputation to uphold, which was fair enough. But in reality, they were very similar. Safi hadn’t seen her friend in a while, and she was sure at this point that he had a lot of news from Cartorra. She had fallen out of the whole nobility story years ago, but that didn’t mean she grew out of gossiping about them. And Leopold knew all the best gossip.

They talked over the phone as often as he could manage. He never appeared busy until it was time to talk. Safi knew that, as a prince, it was only normal for him to have many duties and responsibilities. He just seemed so careless that Safi often forgot about that.

They hadn’t had a good gossip session for a while. As much as Safi hated it, Mathew knew exactly what to say to get her to agree with something quickly. “I can still bring Iseult though, right?”

It was an unnecessary question, mostly because Safi would have brought her threadsister anyway. Still, she had to get confirmation to make Iz feel better. She was a bit of a rule follower now and then, and she would like it better if Safi said Mathew and Habim told her to go too. 

When Safi walked into her room, though, Iseult wasn’t there. Safi had no idea where she was. Her first thought was that maybe Iseult was mad about their little argument. That maybe she didn’t see it as a joke. But then Safi remembered the way Iz shook her head with a smile like she always did when Safi was going on and on about how responsible and independent she was.

Safi sat on her threadsister’s bed and got her phone out. She sent a quick “where are you?” text, then opened the few other notifications she had. She answered a message from Leopold asking whether she was coming, and ignored the missed calls from her uncle. Honestly, she didn’t even know why the man bothered anymore. His weekly brief calls were probably just a way for him to feel better about himself. But Safi couldn’t possibly let him have that. So she started ignoring his calls, and that was when they had started getting more frequent. Her uncle didn’t seem to like being ignored. Well, neither did Safi. And really, he had it coming. She knew it was only a matter of time before he told Habim and Mathew that she refused to answer any of his calls. But until then, she could enjoy being the one doing the ignoring.

Safi didn’t like being on her phone and endlessly scrolling for too long, but she had nothing better to do while waiting for her threadsister. And there was always so much to see. Safi was really bad at unfollowing people after what they posted became boring to her. She just couldn’t get herself to do it. And it didn’t really matter. Most of the people she wasn’t talking to anymore she was still following on social media. It was a nice way to see what everyone was up to without having to actually talk to them. There was a reason they didn’t talk anymore, after all. 

The only personal accounts Safi was following that were of total strangers was from the time she followed a random page, thinking it was just a photography thing. The pictures they posted were all really pretty. But over time, she realised that it was made to…spread awareness, she guessed, about whatever it was that was happening in Nubrevna. Or rather happened. Safi still wasn’t really sure what it was that happened to its nature, but they seemed to be recovering from it. Which was great, and Safi really liked the idea behind the page. So much that she donated money a few times, and followed the personal pages of the people involved. 

Iseult told her it was weird, and that those people probably wanted privacy. Well, if they did, they could have just blocked her. But they didn’t. And sure, most of those accounts were personal, with personal pictures and everything. There was one, though, without even a name on it, and with no personal pictures. Iz said it was probably just someone recognisable who didn’t want to be associated with the page. Safi had a theory that it was an alien whose powers were greater than any witchery. It helped the Nubrevnans get trades and fix whatever was wrong with their country. 

The nameless alien didn’t post frequently, and it was mostly just a relatable picture with a kilometer long caption explaining how the alien related to it. It got old after a little while, and it also didn’t support Safi’s alien theory.

Today’s photo (or rather this month’s photo – for someone so irritated with life itself, the alien didn’t post a lot) didn’t have a caption though. It was just a solid black picture with the words: “You know my name, not my story.”

And Safi just could not resist commenting. It was stronger than her. And she didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. Just that she didn’t know this person’s (Safi decided aliens were too cool to just bitch about everything and anything on the internet) name, but knew almost their whole life story.

Safi didn’t expect anything to happen – another thing Habim always said when summarizing her problems. She apparently “didn’t expect there to be consequences to her actions, and then didn’t know how to deal with them.” Safi supposed it was fair enough, but simple comments like that couldn’t possibly offend someone that much. It was very true, and even if it wasn’t, what people on the internet thought shouldn’t matter to any normal, stable person. 

But Safi badly miscalculated. Of course a person who vented on a nameless profile wasn’t normal and stable! And that was why Iseult found her an hour later, typing furiously on her phone. “Hey, Mathew told me we’re going somewhere tomorrow and I- what are you doing?”

“Fighting for justice, Iz. Why, what does it look like?,” Safi asked. She spared a few moments to look her threadsister in the eyes while speaking to her, but then she was back to her ongoing argument with a hypocritical asshole who didn’t know when to give up.

“When you say justice, do you mean someone defended something morally wrong, or someone said pineapple on pizza is a sin again?”

“Okay, first of all, that was just rude, and I was in the right that one time. Food cannot be a sin!”

Iseult shook her head and sat next to Safi, looking over her shoulder at the growing argument. “How did this start?,” she asked.

“I was calmly expressing my opinion and told this person they were overreacting.”

But Iseult wasn’t an idiot. She took Safi’s phone from her hands and scrolled to the top. “Telling someone that you don’t know their fucking name but do know- I’m not even going to say this out loud, gods, Safi, I leave you alone for an hour and you start saying things like this?”

“I regret nothing,” Safi said. Iseult sighed. 

“Well, it’s too late to fix it now. And there’s a really good opening for a comeback on their last comment.” That was exactly why Iz was her favourite person. Safi handed her phone to her threadsister, letting her type out whatever she thought was fitting. Friends don’t let friends lose stupid arguments they started, after all.

Merik Nihar honestly could have done without those occasional big events. He wasn’t a big fan of anything that included wasting money and time on unnecessary things. But since Vivia was busy, and Kullen had convinced him to at least try to make things better with her. And so Merik had to play nice and offer to take Vivia’s place in the event.

She didn’t like leaving Lovats for longer periods of time, and that only got worse the closer she became to getting the crown. Leaving for three whole days would be her worst nightmare. Merik didn’t get what the big deal was. Granted, he was hardly as involved in politics as Vivia was, but he knew that she had nothing to worry about, at least not at the time. The negotiations with Marstok were put on hold for now, and the country was doing better.

Merik gave up on trying to understand his sister a while ago. And really, there were worse sacrifices to make than being in a crowded room with half the world for one night. He still believed that the whole event was just a plain waste of time and resources, of course, but Vivia was getting to him lately. They might have put the disagreements between them, but that didn’t mean Merik liked thinking about his sister getting more work done than him, even if it came with her position. It would be nice to let loose for a night, as Kullen put it.

He was coming too, of course. So was Ryber, which wasn’t a surprise. They were almost as inseparable as Merik and Kullen. Ryber took Kullen to “meet her threadfamily” a few months ago, and Merik couldn’t tell which one of them was happier once they got back. He assumed Ryber’s family must have liked him. Kullen confirmed that. He said that they were pretty cold – for some reason that remark was followed by hysterical laughter – towards him at first, but they eventually warmed up to him. That was good, Merik supposed.   
Kullen never explained what was so funny about it, and when Merik asked Ryber, she insisted that it was most certainly not a laughing matter. After that Kullen insisted that he didn’t mean it “like that”, and apologized a dozen times before Ryber told him he was forgiven. Once again, Merik was confused. It probably wasn’t that important, though. Kullen always told him everything he thought he should know. It was the same the other way around

And when Merik got what he was pretty sure was called a hate comment, the first thing he did was tell Kullen, who listened to everything Merik had to say about it. And Merik had a lot to say about it. 

He had done nothing – absolutely nothing – to deserve such treatment. He didn’t even know who this person was, except for the quick scrolling down her profile, that wasn’t even locked. Merik’s own was, even if he had nothing on it that could be traced back to him. It was still a safety precaution, and Merik didn’t remember allowing this person to follow him.

He’d never seen her before in his life. So why was she so hell bent on ruining his day? Merik didn’t know. Neither did Kullen, so he told him to just ask her what her problem was. Apparently he didn’t mean literally. But it was already too late, because Merik was roped into a really, really unnecessary argument, and Kullen was just sitting next to him shaking his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I remembered that I can change the characters and plot as much as I wished so of course I went with everyone being anti Serafin. Basically, Iseult is a good friend and Merik and Vivia bring out the worst in each other.

Getting Safi to leave her phone in the middle of an argument was a feat only Iseult could accomplish. Safi knew she was weak on her threadsister, of course she did. She just didn’t know it could be a bad thing. 

In her book, not responding for longer than an hour meant you lose. Still, Safi knew she had better arguments than whoever the faceless coward she was arguing with was. They could wait a little bit.

Iseult had forced Safi to go help her get something from the library. And oh, was it a long, long way to the library. But they made it eventually, and Safi went to pull out her phone the moment Iseult got lost between the book shelves. 

The phone wasn’t there, though. Safi shook her head. Her threadsister was just so good sometimes. It was always a surprise when she used her wits on Safi, though. For someone who couldn’t act to save her life, Iseult was incredible at fooling people in different ways. Usually Safi loved it. Now it was both endearing and frustrating. 

But there was little Safi could do about it at the moment, so she decided to follow her threadsister around, making fun of book titles. A surprising number of them could so easily be turned into a dirty joke, and an even bigger number of them into ridiculous puns that Iseult was now immune to. When they’d first met, she’d at least roll her eyes. But now she looked just…tired whenever she heard them.

Which, fair enough. To each their own. Safi wasn’t going to hold her threadsister’s poor sense of humor against her. And she could get some laughter after a few dozen puns anyway. 

“You’re not taking this seriously,” Iseult said. Safi heard the rest of the words: _unlike that ridiculous argument you just had to start._

“It’s the authors’ fault,” Safi said, “they should have used their heads when they picked the titles."  
”  
“Safi, most of these people are highly educated scholars. The first thing you think of and the first thing they think of will never be the same.”  
“Oh, so they’re highly educated but they can’t recognize their own innuendos?”

“Safi!”

“I’m not wrong!”

Saffi was surprised nobody came to yell at them to be quiet. They certainly deserved it. Well, Safi did. She kept going with her jokes rather loudly, even though her threadsister desperately tried to shush her. Safi wished she could say it was revenge for tricking her, but that was just how things were with them. Safi would do ridiculous over-the-top things, and Iseult would just have to deal with it while rolling her eyes.

That was, of course, when Safi didn’t succeed in convincing her to join her in the stupidity of the day. That was fairly easy to do when she was about to fuck something up, but Iz never ever participated in simple jokes. Safi didn’t quite understand that about her threadsister, but she didn’t ask. The charms of this world weren’t quite as charming when you knew all the reasoning behind them.

When they got back from the library, Safi ran to Iseult’s room get her phone, only to see she had about a dozen calls from Leopold. Which was good, because it meant he’d only started calling about twenty minutes ago. That man didn’t give up until he was answered, something that was both frustrating and enjoyable. More frustrating, though, and only enjoyable when Safi was in the room with him as he tried to reach someone and kept failing. 

As much as she wanted to continue her argument, she had to call him back, or else he’d haunt her till the end of her life. But before Safi even unlocked her phone, the thirteenth call was upon her. Iseult rolled her eyes and sat on the bed, opening the book she borrowed. Well, one of them anyway. Which was cute, really, because Leopold always yelled on the phone. Always. You could hear him even when he wasn’t on speaker. And reading while someone was talking to him over the phone in the same house always proved to be impossible.

Iseult was the victim of that so often. She really should’ve stopped hoping by now, but she tried every time, just to give up a few pages later. 

Safi sat on the floor and accepted the call, moving her phone away from her ear. She’d made that mistake far too many times to repeat it now.

“Safi!,” Leopold practically screamed, “I thought you were dead! Where were you?!”

“Iz made me go to the library with her.”

“Does the library not have Wi-Fi? I’m pretty sure libraries should have Wi-Fi!” Leopold paused a bit, as if he stopped to think, then shouted once again, “Every library in Cartorra has Wi-Fi! You two should come visit!”

He’d asked that so many times, and so many times Safi rejected his offer. It was getting impolite at this point. So Safi simply ignored the question instead of disappointing her friend with a negative answer. 

“She didn’t let me bring my phone, either.”

“Oh?!” Leopold shouted, sounding like a half-deaf old man with one foot in the grave. 

“Yeah, all because I got into some dumb argument with some dumb person.”

“Do you want me to help you win?! I can just say I agree with you and bam, you won! Because I am,” Safi distanced her phone further from her ear. Leopold always said these words louder for whatever reason, and they were ear shattering over phone, “THE PRINCE OF CARTORRA, you know, and my word is pretty much the only argument you’ll need.”

Safi considered it for a moment, but she decided she’d rather win the argument on her own. That’d show her mysterious opponent that she wasn’t lazy. She knew they checked her account because they insulted her eyebrows, and that meant they definitely saw the pictures of her and Leopold she had posted from the last summer. 

One thing she had to appreciate about this person was their guts. You’d have to be really confident to go against someone who knew the prince of Cartorra. And sure, they were Nubrevnan so that probably didn’t concern them, and as Iseult kindly pointed out, they were probably right in the greater scheme of things. But Safi had _killer_ arguments that she couldn’t just not use. It would’ve been a crime against humanity. 

And really, this person threw out their higher moral standing the moment they attacked her eyebrows. 

“No thanks. As Iseult always says, I should finish what I start on my own.” When Iz said that, it usually applied to food, but Leopold did not know that and he did not need to know that.

“Okay! How is she?!”

Iseult closed her book loudly (the hardcover ones always scared Safi), and sat on the floor next to Safi.   
“I’m just fine, thank you,” she said, rolling her eyes. Iz wasn’t the one to do things out of spite, at least not normally, But Safi noticed the way she spoke way quieter than normal to contrast Leopold’s screaming.

“That’s good!” Leopold, apparently, did not notice that, or if he did, he didn’t get the point of it.

“Must you shout?” Iseult asked. Spite, then dealing with things directly. Her approach of this was quite peculiar. 

“Yes! You know how I’m all the way in Cartorra?! And you’re in Dalmotti?!” Leopold explained for the thousandth time, “well, the service is leagues worse than it would be if I talked to someone who was also in Cartorra!”

If that meant those people got to hear him shout even louder, Safi sincerely pitied them. 

They talked to Leopold for twenty more minutes before he had to go pick out his outfit for tomorrow evening. Safi rolled her eyes at how early he started preparing for it, but she was surprised when Iseult asked if she knew what she was going to wear right after they ended the call. 

Safi said she didn’t, which was true. She planned to just throw on the first sparkly dress she found. Iseult was always the one who cared about public appearances more. It was mostly because of the way people viewed her, being Nomatsi and all. Safi guessed it had to do with her mother too, but she didn’t ask. Iz didn’t like talking about Gretchya, and Safi didn’t like Gretchya in general.

Iseult somehow persuaded her to actually pick out what she was going to wear beforehand, and then help her pick. Only halfway through did Safi realise it was just another way for her threadsister to pull her away from continuing her argument.

In her defense, Iz never let her help pick what she’d wear, and it was very exciting. Safi almost forgot all about the argument, but she had a few tricks up her sleeve too.  
Safi made her threadsister take a picture with her, dressed in their outfits for tomorrow night. “I’m just going to post this really quick,” Safi said. And Iseult definitely saw through it, but she let her type away for way longer than it took to post a picture, no attempts at distraction this time.

Merik was surprised at the lack of response, and his surprise only grew with every passing minute. The woman he was arguing with was always quick to respond. After ten minutes, Merik gave up on waiting. This person probably just realised how ridiculous this whole thing was, and that she was wrong to insult someone she didn’t even know.   
And besides, he had work to do. He already let her take too much of his time. There was some last minute paperwork to do – there always was – and then he had to pack for the trip to Dalmotti. Merik would have liked to go earlier, to ensure he’d be on time, but Vivia said that a day was enough. He managed to convince her that they should go the night before, instead of the morning before.

She rolled her eyes and asked him why he was bringing so many witches with him if he didn’t use their witcheries to get there earlier. But in the end, she agreed. Merik wasn’t use to having to ask his sister for her permission. Until recently, he believed he’d somehow end up ruling Nubrevna instead of her in the end.   
Kullen humored him and listened when he talked about it. But in the end, it was Kullen who convinced him to go talk to her – actually talk to her – and see if he would change his mind. 

It didn’t happen immediately, of course, but it did cause Merik to consider Kullen’s theory about Serafin pitting his children against each other. He didn’t dare mention it to Vivia, but he did ask her not to tell their father about their conversations when she could avoid it. 

He half expected her to do it out of spite, but she didn’t. They still had a long way to go, but Merik believed it was the right thing to do. 

Kullen had other theories about Serafin, each wilder than the other, that Merik simply dismissed. His aunt, however, seemed to see the logic in some of them, mainly the ones concerning his position. Next thing he knew, Merik was accompanying his aunt to Lovats to lie to the High Council about her brother’s apparent exhaustion and stress that was just too much for his current state.

Merik usually only rolled his eyes when aunt Evrane talked about his father, mainly because it was the way he talked about Vivia, and he didn’t _actually_ hate her. That didn’t seem to be the case with Aunt Evrane, though.

As much as Merik wanted to believe that it was ridiculous and unnecessary of his aunt to do that, he couldn’t ignore how quickly Vivia progressed when the council thought they were burdening Serafin in his last years. And while he was happy for his sister, he still wasn’t happy that he had to take orders from her.

She could be unreasonable, cruel even. Absolutely ruthless when she wanted to be. Merik didn’t like witnessing that side of her, but there were some situations where it was ideal.  
Like right now. Merik had just gotten on the ship and checked his phone to see a response on the cursed comment thread. As he was typing a response, he accidentally entered the woman’s profile. He checked it once earlier, to see if there was anything worth commenting on. 

She posted a new picture some minutes ago, and the caption told Merik he’d have to deal with a lot more than just irritating conversations and gossip tomorrow night. Kullen, of course, would be no help when it came to that. He’d tell Merik to just ignore the woman. Vivia, however, probably had the advice he wanted to hear. 

He sent her a text explaining the situation, and was delighted when the ‘typing’ bubble didn’t disappear for another five minutes, signaling a ruthless plan.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merik has a plan. An eeeevil plan.
> 
> Safi plays seamstress and causes Mathew seam stress.

Apparently there were many things you could find out from social media. Merik wasn’t aware of that, but Vivia was. For someone so busy, she sure had a lot of time to spend on helping Merik win this argument. 

Vivia asked to see the argument for herself and, fool that he was, Merik gave her the password to the account. He completely forgot about all the posts he’d written about her before Kullen convinced him to reconsider his opinion on her. She wasn’t very pleased with what she read, but she focused on that last post and the comments on it.  
And then she somehow got a lot of information about the woman Merik was arguing with just from her profile. At least Merik hoped it was only from her profile. He didn’t want to be involved in anything illegal.

Vivia offered to send a formal letter to the woman’s uncle, whose address she somehow found, explaining that his niece publicly insulted the prince of Nubrevna. While that was tempting, it wasn’t as satisfying as dealing with her on his own would be. 

Vivia was disappointed with his decision, but she still told him what to say to get the reaction he wanted, and that was enough. The rest, Merik could do on his own.  
He’d have quite an audience after all, made up of important people or those who took themselves to be important. Attacking the prince of Nubrevna definitely wasn’t a good look. Vivia said that the woman was Cartorran, so her family might not be too harsh about it. But the public would be. 

Merik made his plan in secret, consulting only with his sister, and even that only when it was absolutely necessary. He could get away with it in the evening, but in the morning he faced an obstacle that he overlooked.

Merik made it to the bow of the ship before Kullen stopped him. If anything went smoothly, they would reach Dalmotti by noon, and Merik wanted to avoid him until then. He hated hiding things from his threadbrother, but this was a matter of pride. He knew Kullen would never leave him alone for a moment if he even suspected Merik was going to publicly call out the aggressive Cartorran.

She started it, after all. She had to know there would be consequences. And it was very easy to just not comment on a stranger’s post. In other words, she had it coming.  
Getting Kullen to understand that would be a lot harder, though. He was so convinced that he knew what was best for Merik at all times. And sure, he was right about Vivia, and maybe he had a point about Serafin, but that didn’t give him any authority over Merik’s grudges.

Still, he couldn’t tell him that. Not if he wanted to go through with his plan tonight. So when Kullen asked him why he went to sleep so early last night, Merik had to lie to his threadbrother for the first time in a while. It was a tiny, harmless lie, but Merik still felt bad about it. Of course he did. Kullen did want what was best for him, but they always had very different opinions on what the best for him was.

Merik couldn’t call it ridiculous, because he knew to fuss over Kullen for days after even the most minor injury. Still, that was very different than what Kullen was doing. This wouldn’t harm Merik. If anything, it’d bring him justice.

And yet Merik couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at his threadbrother for getting involved. As always, he had good intentions. That didn’t go with a good understanding of the situation, at least not this time. 

“You weren’t feeling well? Why didn’t you call for a healer?” Merik hoped he’d only have to lie once, but that obviously wasn’t the case. He felt bad seeing Kullen so concerned over a lie. If his threadbrother was thinking clearly, he’d realise that Merik would never let pain stop him from living life as he usually did. But Kullen wasn’t thinking clearly, because he was a good friend. The best there was. And he did not deserve to be lied to.

But there was little Merik could do about that after he said that first lie. Now he would just have to live with it until the party.

“It wasn’t bad enough for a healer. I just needed to rest.” Kullen raised his eyebrows at this, but he didn’t question it. Merik noted his poor choice of words. Aunt Evrane’s favourite response to exhaustion had always been “you’ll rest in the grave”. It was perhaps not the wisest thing she said, but it was the one that stuck with Merik the most. So much that it was what he told Kullen every time he suggested taking a break.

“If you say so. Do you know what you’ll wear tonight?” Merik believed Kullen already knew the answer to that question. While Merik wasn’t the one for dressing up, he liked to leave a good impression, and he liked having things under control. No last minute decisions and dilemmas. 

He tended to get frustrated when he left things for later, so he didn’t do it. Being early was better than snapping at people because of his own indecisiveness. And while he had a lot of time to pick out an outfit, having known about the even for a week, Merik did it as soon as he could.

“I have something in mind,” Merik said, which meant that he had it laid out on his bed already. Kullen asked about it, probably to fill the silence and not because he really was interested. 

That was how they spent the morning. There was little Merik could to get the ship to come to their destination faster, but he just couldn’t wait to show the Cartorran just who she insulted that on time. Multiple times, actually. Her responses weren’t as quick anymore, meaning she probably forgot about it. Merik would make sure she remembered.

Safi changed her mind about the dress pretty quickly. It looked just fine to her yesterday, but when the morning came, Safi found she didn’t like it all that much anymore.  
That meant she’d have to choose another dress. Or fix up this one. It looked so easy in movies. Safi had some sewing supplies from when she ruined Iseult’s coat and needed to fix it. She didn’t succeed in that, but that was in the past. This was now, and Safi was going to make the pretties dress ever.

It was a nice yellow colour that went well with her hair. But it was long sleeved and Safi knew from the few times she let herself actually do Domna stuff that she would be sweating by the end of the evening, sleeves or not. Still, no sleeves was the better option. Way better.

So Safi cut the sleeves off. “Please tell me that’s it,” Mathew said. He came to supervise her little dress making adventure, which was probably for the best. Safi was skilled with scissors, but she tended to be creative when it came to using sharp objects. And since Mathew did let her use one of the rooms in his shop, it was only fair.

Safi did plan for the sleeves to be all, but now that he was asking…

“The lace on the back is very itchy.” Mathew tried to talk her out of cutting the back off, but it was already too late.

“You can’t wear that,” Mathew said, “it’s scandalous. And not to mention how hideous it looks.”

Mathew was a wordwitch, and if even he couldn’t find anything nice to say about the dress, maybe it was a failed project.

Safi was not going to admit that anytime soon, though. “I’ll just use the fabric from the sleeves to cover the back.” Mathew muttered something in a language Safi didn’t know, which meant he already predicted a disaster in his mind.

He wasn’t far off. The dress was definitely wearable, and most of the skin was covered. But it didn’t even begin to meet the standards of a fancy event. Mathew was overjoyed when she finally gave up. It wasn’t even completely ruined, so she could still potentially wear it sometime.

Safi felt kind of bad for not giving him the disaster he expected. She debated knocking over a candle, just so she wouldn’t leave Mathew disappointed. Habim could probably put it out in minutes. But first Safi would have to find and light a candle and that seemed like a lot of work that she simply wasn’t ready to do. She could always cause trouble later.  
Mathew helped her pick out another dress, which took a while. They had very conflicting tastes when it came to clothes. That probably had to do with Mathew being old or Safi having burned off most his brain cells by now. Maybe both.

Eventually, they did choose. This dress unfortunately had sleeves, which Mathew didn’t allow her to fix for whatever reason. It didn’t have an itchy lacy back, though, and it was a nice light green colour. It was almost perfect, and Safi could always cut off the sleeves when Mathew wasn’t looking.

When it came to hair, Safi just half heartedly brushed it for a few moments before finding a knot and giving up. It’s not like anybody would notice. And even if they did, her family didn’t exactly have a great reputation. It would be very on brand for her to come with dirty, unkept hair. But Safi even washed it. She just didn’t brush it through completely.  
Safi didn’t even know how fancy this event would be. That was one of the reasons why she was glad to have Iseult with her. Safi had started bringing her threadsister places a few years ago and people didn’t talk about it anymore, at least not as if it was news. 

And besides, she’d die of boredom if Iz didn’t come. Leopold was entertaining, sure, but, one, he wasn’t Iseult, and two, he was a prince. He couldn’t spend the whole evening with her, and he couldn’t joke around with her as casually as he usually did. Unlike Safi, he did have a reputation to live up to.

That was probably why half an hour passed of the evening before Leopold could find the time to greet her and Iseult. And even then, it wasn’t long before Leopold spotted the Nubrevnans. He made it his duty to talk to every guest, something that Safi would never believe anyone except him would ever do. 

He also made it his duty to introduce Safi and Iseult to as much people as possible. Safi already had an awkward conversation with the Empress of Marstok that she didn’t want to repeat. She told Leopold as much, but he seemingly didn’t get the point, because he immediately called the Nubrevnan prince over. 

Safi didn’t know too much about Nubrevna. Habim said it was because she was the laziest student ever. She preferred to think of it as keeping a healthy distance from the unknown. 

Leopold greeted the prince as if they saw each other every day, which left the other man confused, but he humored Leopold’s wish for small talk. The only thing missing was a hug, and then it would look like a family reunion.

Safi chuckled at the ridiculousness of the situation, and the Nubrevnan looked at her. Leopold, of course, had to introduce her. Safi didn’t see why it was necessary. She’d never see this man again. 

Still, Iseult left her to go to the bathroom, so Safi could hardly ignore the conversation. “Just call me Safi,” she said, thinking that was it.  
But it wasn’t, because Safi was an idiot. “You seemed to prefer your username yesterday,” the prince said, “apparently it’s stalking to access personal information, even if you made it public.”

Safi remembered the last interaction she had online. The argument. Idiot was an understatement. Habim was going to kill her. 

But Safi wouldn’t go down without a fight. “It didn’t seem fair, your highness,” she said, making sure to sound respectful, “that you know my name but I don’t know yours.”  
“If you knew, you wouldn’t have said half of the things you did.” That caught Leopold’s attention, and soon all the people nearby were looking at them. Safi thought she noticed Habim among them, but she wasn’t sure. She hoped it wasn’t him. He didn’t say he’d be attending. And if he heard that she repeatedly insulted the prince of Nubrevna…it wasn’t going to be pretty.

Now Safi had to play nice. She lost this round. “I apologise-“

“For what? For making fun of my personal struggles? Or my intellect?” The prince continued on, gaining an even bigger audience. Safi didn’t even remember saying some of the things he called her out for, but it did sound like her.

She wished the ground would just open beneath her when another Nubrevnan came and told his prince to stop. Safi didn’t expect him to actually do it and go away. Last time she checked princes don’t take orders. But she supposed it didn’t matter. He’d already ruined what little reputation she had.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only one to go! It should be done before the end of the week!
> 
> Merik and Safi both fucked up but neither likes apologising.

Safi was many things. Prideful and confrontational came to mind first. But she would much rather apologise on her own than have Mathew and Habim yell at her about it. 

She was surprised they hadn’t already sent her back to Cartorra. She was not at fault here, but she doubted they would see that. As it was, the prince made himself out to be a victim. 

Iseult said he was one. And maybe that was true at first, but as their argument went on, he became just as petty as Safi herself. Her first idea had been to screenshot the argument and leak it online. It didn’t make her look like a saint, sure, but it didn’t make her look like the mad, spiteful person the prince had made her out to be either.

But when Safi tried to go through with her first plan, she found that the account had been deleted. Oh, he was good. And Safi knew she was better, but she had no time to come up with a plan that proved it. It was a question of minutes when Mathew and Habim would march in and demand she apologise anyway, after a long, long lecture. She might as well skip the apology part.

Iseult was no help when it came to wording an apology eloquently. She never put herself into situations where an apology was necessary, much unlike Safi. And she barely even knew what was going on. Iseult was in the bathroom during the conversation, and when she came back, Safi really didn’t want to talk about it. Leopold told her an exaggerated version of what happened, but Safi could tell her threadsister was having none of it.

Usually she found Iseult’s dislike of Leopold amusing, but this time she was thankful for it. Safi didn’t want to know what would happen if Iz had taken him seriously. She’d be even less helpful when trying to come up with an apology, and she wasn’t doing much as it is.

No, Safi had to find the words on her own. Good words. Words that sounded genuine. That should not have been as hard as it was. But eventually Safi got it. She had to cater to everyone who heard rumors about what happened last night – which, at this point, was everyone. 

She only apologized for the things that the prince announced to the public. It was a lengthy list. A bit exaggerated, sure, but most of those things were said. Safi hated having to swallow her pride like that, but what other choice did she have?

She still planned to find wherever he was staying and permanently…redecorate the place, but the public wouldn’t know about that. They would, however, know whether she apologized or not. It physically hurt to hit send, so she had Iseult do it for her. It didn’t make her feel any better.

She was concerned when she didn’t see Mathew and Habim – or at least one of them – by noon. She could only assume they were preparing a whole speech on why she was irresponsible and worse than her uncle.

Habim said that only once, but Safi still remembered it. As far as she knew, Habim was only ever that frustrated at her. Most of the things he said were well deserved, but that one crossed a line. Habim seemed to realise that too, because for a week after that, he swallowed down all his anger. Safi tested it every day until she finally got him to snap nine days later. Mathew always said it was the weirdest nine days in his life. Safi agreed. 

She doubted he would regret saying it now. Her uncle did his best to make sure that their family was a joke, but Safi managed to separate herself from that. Now, though, she was as bad as her uncle. Iseult was right from the start. Of course she was. Safi should have made fun of the post privately and moved on.  
How many of the troubles she caused could be prevented if only she listened to Iseult? All she could hope for right now was that the prince accepted her apology.

“You’re joking,” Vivia said, though she wasn’t laughing. 

“I’m not, she really did apologise.”

Vivia sighed dramatically. “Why do I waste my precious time on you? That’s not what I was talking about.” 

Well, now Merik was confused. “Wasn’t that our goal?” 

“Your goal. This wasn’t a personal attack on me,” Vivia said, drawing her words out, “if it was, she wouldn’t get away with it so easily.”

Well, of course she wouldn’t. But that was because Vivia was ruthless. She ‘wasted her precious time’ helping him embarrass the Cartorran. Merik could only imagine how much she would enjoy doing it herself. 

“Whatever you have in mind, Kullen won’t let me do it.” _And I wouldn’t want to do it._

“Last time I checked, you’re his boss, not the other way around.” That was true, but the conversation they had last night was far from professional. Kullen was disappointed in him, and his opinion mattered to Merik. He doubted Vivia would understand that. She didn’t seem capable of any personal attachment, and she didn’t want to be. 

“I just can’t,” Merik said. He didn’t expect her to understand, and she didn’t. That was fine. He asked for her help. This was all his fault. It was something he had to fix on his own.   
“Suit yourself, but I would give her hell in your place.”

“I already did.” Vivia let out a sigh. “I did!”

“Once. I would’ve made sure she never thought of me again if it wasn’t in fear.” Merik heard the door to his cabin open, and turned around to see Kullen and Ryber standing there. “What you should do now is find out where she spends most of her time and then-.”

Merik ended the call, but he could still feel the judgmental looks of his friends. “I swear I wasn’t going to listen to her.”

“Are you sure?,” Kullen asked. Merik couldn’t remember the last time his threadbrother had so plainly accused him of lying. He supposed it was well deserved. He took Vivia’s advice once already, and made a scene that the whole city, if not continent, was talking about.

“I’m sure. I’m sorry I went behind your back. If there was anything I could do to fix it, I would in a heartbeat.” Merik didn’t care about the Cartorran and whatever was going to happen to her once her family found out, but he did care about how Kullen must feel after being lied to. He didn’t deserve that.

“What if there is?” Ryber said. Merik wasn’t surprised at first. They must’ve discussed the situation together. That was his first assumption, anyway, but then he saw that Kullen looked as confused as Merik felt. “I mean, she apologised. The public part is done. But you could meet with her privately and apologise for what you did.”

It made a lot of sense. Things Ryber said usually did. Kullen agreed with the idea, too, meaning Merik had no choice. If he wanted to fix the situation, he had to do this.  
He soon found that the Cartorran was even more annoying than previously thought. 

Merik sent her a message, from his official account this time. He didn’t really regret it, because it would help him gain back Kullen’s respect. But by the time she started sending voice messages that were just angry ranting, Merik was considering not going through with the plan.

But he couldn’t lie to Kullen again, so he waited for the woman to calm down. Eighteen voice messages (the last one getting interrupted with a “Safi, please.”), and four written ones later, it was finally Merik’s turn to talk.

“I obviously overreacted,” he wrote, “and I would like to apologise for that in person. Are you free tonight?” Merik told Vivia they’d be on their way back by the afternoon, but he didn’t think she cared too much about that. 

The Cartorran sent him an address with a message attached. It read: “I am not letting you pay for my dinner. Be there at ten or go to hell.”

Merik didn’t question the time, even though it was unusually late for a dinner. Hopefully he would be done with it quickly. 

Merik made sure to get there five minutes early. The coffee shop he found himself in front of was closed. Well, that explained the time. He didn’t know why a Cartorran noble would have access to a dalmottian coffee shop, much less one that, according to the sign in front of it, sold Marstoki coffee. 

At ten and three, the door opened. Merik found the last message he received ironic, but he said nothing about it. The Cartorran sounded just about ready for murder earlier, and he didn’t want to challenge her.

“Good evening,” Merik greeted. He got a scoff and a half-hearted hello in response. 

There was a single unoccupied table in the middle. Merik put his coat around one of the chairs and pulled the other one out for the Cartorran. She then sat on the other chair and threw his coat on the floor.

Merik was aware that she didn’t like him very much, but that was incredibly rude. He was still a prince, even if he swallowed his pride enough to come apologise. 

He looked at the Cartorran. She barely said a word to him since he came in. 

Well, it seemed like he had to start this conversation. “So, last night…it wasn’t undeserved,” Merik started. 

The Cartorran got up. “Excuse me?! Half of the things you listed never happened! I never called you stupid. Quite the opposite, actually, I called you a bitch. Dogs are smart!” 

Merik wasn’t following her logic. “You didn’t let me finish. It wasn’t undeserved, but I shouldn’t have done it in public.”

“You shouldn’t have gone away after doing it. If you didn’t, Nubrevna would be left without a prince.” Well, Vivia would definitely like this woman. Aggressive and always ready to threaten people. They were practically the same person.

“You think too highly of yourself,” Merik told her. He might not have been too powerful, but he didn’t see a witchmark on the woman’s hand at all. Chances were he would beat in a fight. 

“As do you. I got chewed out three times today, just because you felt like causing a scene.” Merik expected that the consequences of insulting a prince would be much bigger than “getting chewed out” but he could only imagine what kind of family raised someone willing to insult people for no reason in the first place.

“I wouldn’t have needed to do that if you weren’t so against me having a venting space.”

The Cartorran laughed bitterly. “If you cared so much about your ‘venting space’ why did you delete the account?”

Merik hadn’t done that, but he knew exactly who did. Giving Vivia that password was a mistake. Listening to Vivia was a mistake. Lying to Kullen was a mistake.

And now he had to live with the consequences.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short ending to the story, written as the author's cat decided that keyboards are for walking on.

It was horribly cold outside, but it was still better than staying outside and dealing with the arrogant Cartorran. 

Her name was Safiya, something Merik apparently should’ve known. He should’ve known it so much that not knowing it got him yelled at. And Merik was just human, after all. He’d been holding in his frustrations for far too long.

Kullen and Ryber told him to stay calm, but there was only so much he could take. It had been about an hour before they woke anyone up with their shouting. Merik didn’t know anyone lived above the coffee shop, and he didn’t really care. 

Safiya seemed to, because she decided that the conversation was done the moment her friend came down to see what was happening. At least Merik assumed it was her friend. They couldn’t be family, could they? They looked very different. The biggest difference was that the other woman was Nomatsi. She also carried herself much differently than Safiya did, though Merik had yet to see her as angry as her friend was.

She didn’t say anything about the shouting, but she did greet Merik and her friend. She didn’t ask them to be quieter, either. Merik doubted at first if Safiya would listen to her if she did ask. But she didn’t even need to. She was quieter after her friend left, though she wasn’t any less sharp with her words.

Merik followed her example. 

He did apologise for last night in the end, but the other things he said pretty much cancelled it out. They were all well deserved, though. And Kullen would never know what was said. He would just know that Merik went and apologised.

His apology was much more sincere than Safiya’s. It was painfully obvious that someone was making her do it.

Merik pointed that out and she said that at least her family didn’t hate her.

He needed a moment to understand what she was talking about, but then he remembered the account Vivia deleted. Safiya referenced posts made on it a few times. Merik couldn’t believe he practically gave her arguments to use against him. He literally wrote it out for her.

It was late by the time she recognised that he wasn’t going to give up, and even later by the time Merik realised the same. They parted after a tense agreement to never talk to or about each other again, and Merik was never more glad to never see a person again.

To his surprise, Kullen was still awake and ready to hear about what happened. Merik didn’t hold back when talking about how frustrating the Cartorran was. He compared her to Vivia more than a few times, which made Kullen laugh. Merik missed that. The few hours he spent with Kullen disappointed at him were the worst in his life.

But now everything was fine and normal and Merik was so glad to never see Safiya again.

Iseult was at the library, Leopold wasn’t answering her calls, and Habim and Mathew were still mad at her, despite her best attempt at a sincere apology. That meant she didn’t have anyone to tell about the most frustrating encounter she’d ever had.

Iseult would probably tell her that’s how she referred to every single even remotely frustrating thing. She’d be right, of course, but this man was the idiot to end all idiots. Safi said that about the prince earlier that morning, and she’d said it about so many people before that. It wasn’t her fault that she seemed to attract idiotic men, and it was very unfair that she had to deal with it on her own.

She couldn’t accept that. She simply couldn’t. 

Safi scrolled through her latest messages and found a victim. She did say she’d never talk to him again, but this was one conversation.

Just to show that he wasn’t the only nightmare of a man in her life.

Safi started writing what she swore was the last message ever to prince Merik.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was very short! I might do a sequel just because I want Safi and Vivia to meet and Safi and Merik as rant friends is a really interesting concept


End file.
